A/N: As a warning, this one covers the events of S5 including 100 (and a major character death) along with some triggering things towards the end. Nothing that hasn't been covered before, but mentioning as a warning.

Chapter 41: Angel Down

Doesn't everyone belong

In the arms of the sacred?

Why do we pretend we're wrong?

Has our young courage faded?

Why is Aaron awake so damn early?

Emily groans when she hears her phone ring less than four hours after getting back from Canada. In fact, it wakes her from a restless sleep, as if she barely even closed her eyes at all. A brief glance at her watch, which is still on her wrist, tells her she's clocked less than three hours of sleep on the couch. She'd dozed off there with a half-full bottle of vodka on the coffee table, a blanket twisted around her legs and the television still on. Running a hand through her matted hair she reaches for the phone, squinting at the tiny screen.

Except it's not Aaron's name that pops up like she anticipated. It's JJ, from her work number, which can only mean one thing, and it's never a good sign this early. With a frown, she accepts the call, with a sinking feeling about just what it might entail. "What is it, JJ?"

"We're getting called in," says the tired voice on the other end, and Emily can hear the unmistakable shriek of a wailing baby in the background. Wincing, she drags herself off the couch in search of some water, stretching her stiff limbs. The couch was not a good idea after hardly sleeping at all the last few nights. "Shots were fired in an apartment building in McLean."

That doesn't sound like a BAU case. "I thought Hotch said we'd get the day off," Emily yawns, realizing she's still wearing the same clothes from the day before - the ones she'd changed into for the flight home from Canada. A shower is a must at this point, and some food too, based on how loudly her stomach is growling. "They can't find anyone else?"

"Yeah that's not happening. I don't think he ever got a hold of Strauss." JJ sighs as the noises in the background get louder. Through the phone, Emily hears Will's voice now, too. He sounds just as exhausted as JJ does, and even more frustrated. Can't imagine why. "But the police said it's urgent. They need us."

"When?" Emily kicks her bag out of the way and sidesteps the shoes she'd abandoned in the doorway on her way in. "What's going on?"

"I don't have a ton of details, but they need us as soon as possible. I still need to call Morgan and Hotch. Rossi is already on his way there now. I'll send you the address."

She hangs up, and stares at the phone in her hands. There aren't any missed calls or messages, she notices, scrolling through her call log. He's probably still sleeping, Emily thinks. Anyone in their right mind would be after how late they'd gotten home the night before. Yet, the unsettled feeling from last night comes creeping back, planting itself firmly in the back of her mind.

Something isn't right. She just doesn't know what.

It doesn't quite make sense why they're there in the first place. Morgan expresses his displeasure more than once, the only one who is willing to say what's going through all of their minds. They're all in various states of exhaustion - Reid's clothes are rumpled and his hair a mess, Derek's eyes are red. Dave is moving a little slower than normal, and JJ is clearly running on fumes at this point. Aaron should be here by now. Traffic isn't even that bad, she thinks, staring down the street, as if he'll appear out of thin air. It's getting harder to conceal her unease. As they profile their new case, making sense of the dead body on the ground, her mind strays.

"Where's Hotch?"

"He's not answering his cell. I assume it's on vibrate. He'll get the message when he wakes up." JJ shrugs, a slight roll of her eyes.

But Aaron never sleeps with his phone on vibrate, Emily thinks immediately. She's spent enough nights in his bed to know otherwise, having been awoken multiple times to its ring. But of course she can't say that. As her stomach drops to her feet, the small apartment suddenly becomes even smaller as the walls close in and the stench of death floods her senses. She hovers close as JJ dials his cell number once more when they hurry out of the building, onto the busy street in the middle of McLean.

She's off her game at the doctor's house, unable to focus on what's right in front of her, and it's obvious. Reid keeps staring in her direction every couple minutes, looking suspicious of her uncharacteristic distraction. JJ had peered at her just a few seconds too long when Emily asked for the third time that morning if she'd heard from Hotch. And now that it's just her and Reid, it's getting harder to pull her weight as the minutes tick past.

Emily lasts another hour before she can't take it anymore.. By now, even Reid is starting to look concerned with the fact it's been over two hours since they started, and no one has heard from their boss. He does a better job at hiding it, but Emily's known him long enough to pick up on the detached way he combs through the evidence, a bit more distant than usual, his typical acuity gone, his gaze lingering out the window.

Enough is enough.

"You know, I can get to Hotch's and get back here in a half an hour? We need more eyes," is how she justifies her sudden departure, doing her best to remain neutral even though her mind is practically screaming at this point. It's so unlike him to not answer his phone, let alone be late.

"Garcia can give you his address," Reid says as she pockets the keys. She says nothing, because what Reid doesn't know is she's had his address memorized for months now.

Emily could make the drive to his apartment in her sleep. The long yet familiar hallway in his building is endless today, and her palms start to sweat as she nears his door, knocking rapidly. Her heart starts to race and her blood runs cold when she hears his phone ring on the other side of the door, drawing her weapon in her own shaking hands.

She's not sure what she's expecting to find when she tries the knob, finding it unlocked. And when the door opens easily, it all but confirms something is direly wrong. He'd never leave the door unlocked like this. Inside, it's exactly as he typically leaves it, spotless, everything in its place. And upon first glance, nothing is out of the ordinary. But then she sees the gaping hole in the wall that could have only come from a gun, and her worst fears are again confirmed when she rounds the corner and finds the pool of blood soaking into the carpet.

She stares at it for a few seconds too long before she has to look away, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

...

The next two hours are a surreal, haunting blur of time as she goes on autopilot, calling Garcia with as much composure as she can muster, requesting backup and FBI techs immediately.

There's no mistaking the obvious concern in Reid's voice again as she relays what she sees in yet another phone call. She nearly chokes on her words as she surveys it all- the wall, the blood on the floor.

Garcia is the one who does the heavy lifting, making the calls and eventually tracks him down to St. Sebastian Hospital, admitted under circumstances that could only mean one thing.

Foyet.

It makes sense, she thinks on the drive there. How could it not? Foyet had taken Morgan's credentials for a reason, they just hadn't known it at the time. It'd been the least of their concerns in Boston. Emily recognizes the message he's leaving - it's the sign of a true psychopath - a teasing reminder of the terror he wields and how easily he can slip away, undetected, leaving death in his wake and little regard to what is left behind. With a nervous gulp she walks right into the hospital, reaching for her shield with a trembling hand at the check-in desk.

She isn't sure what she expects to find, but seeing him in a hospital bed, still unconscious, is enough to shake any form of resolve she's gathered on the way up the elevator. Stabbed nine times. Lucky to be alive. Emily can barely process any of it, and she's grateful there's nothing in her stomach when she's finally alone with him. Sitting beside him makes her antsy, standing beside his bed feels hawkish and invasive. Instead, she flips through his chart to busy herself, only to see the letters LC, and something sets warning bells off in her head.

Living children. This doesn't end here. There's an ulterior motive behind all of this. With an overwhelming sense of dread, she reaches for her phone and calls Reid one more time.

Aaron is relatively lucid when he wakes up, despite being pumped with enough painkillers to numb a large animal. He's impossibly pale and groggy, and even the smallest movements take a substantial amount of effort.

"Where am I?" He licks his lips; she reaches for the plastic container of water on the tray at his side, filling a cup and holding the straw to his chapped lips.

"A hospital," she says quietly, unable to take her eyes off the large bandage on his chest, or the ones on his arms. Thinking of what's underneath of them makes her stomach hurt.

"How did I get here?" His eyes flutter shut and open again, and Emily wonders just how much of this he'll remember in a few hours.

"Foyet drove you."

He nods with nothing more than a frown, unwilling to face the reality of the last few hours quite yet. A monitor beeps loudly from the hallway, followed by the footsteps of multiple nurses racing into the room adjacent to his. Emily can't help but shiver, swallowing the wave of nausea that rips through her.

"You must be hating this," Aaron says through gritted teeth. "I know how you feel about -"

"Don't worry about that now," she says, swallowing the lump that's been in her throat since she woke up that morning. "Are you still in pain?"

He ignores her, just winces, which is the only answer she needs. "How long have you been here?"

"A little while," she says weakly, but she's not even sure herself how long it's been. Could be hours, or maybe a few minutes. Either way, it doesn't matter, and seconds later, the door swings open, revealing Morgan, JJ, and Dave, their faces aghast but relieved at the same time.

No one makes pleasantries, just a quick exchange of knowing glances and thin smiles. Emily runs them through the scene in his apartment, hoping that they don't notice just how badly her hands are shaking.

"Can you remember what happened?" Emily asks him moments later, clutching the bedrail a little too tightly. It's taking too much effort just to keep his eyes open at this point, and the beeping of the monitors every so often reminds her just how fucking close they could have been to losing him. "Anything at all?"

He pieces through the cloudy haze of what happened, his face twisting in pain as he struggles to connect the dots. It's almost bizarre to see him on the other side of the questioning for once, and she purposefully keeps her back angled away from Morgan, JJ, and Dave. Even in his current state, he knows all the right things to ask of them - what was missing, what was left behind.

"I looked over your whole apartment. Nothing felt out of place." She says it as evenly as she can, leaving out the fact she knows his apartment as well as her own at this point. She of all people would know if something was missing, for sure. "But there was a page missing from your day planner."

He figures it out instantly, his mouth twisting into a frown, his body suddenly feeling like lead. "Haley's maiden name is Brooks. I always listed her in the B's in my personal information in case it ever fell into the wrong hands," he croaks, the panic beginning to set in his face, even through his heavily drugged state. "He knows where they live."

JJ glances at Dave, who stares at Morgan, and Morgan's eyes rest solely on her. Emily wishes the ground would swallow her whole, for this is truly their worst nightmare, as they know exactly what Foyet is capable of. It only makes sense he would go after Haley and Jack next, and she can't help but feel inordinately guilty as Morgan and JJ practically sprint out of the hospital. Maybe if we hadn't kept this a secret for so long, he'd go after me. But he's going after Haley, because what we have is still a secret, and what they had was real.

She barely takes a full deep breath until word comes that Haley and Jack are safe, on their way to St. Sebastian, as protective detail is worked out.

Haley barely looks in her direction at all, but Jack offers a shy wave, looking confused and a little scared. Emily's throat tightens as she remembers the last time she'd seen him, less than a week ago after his soccer game. Aaron had picked him up, they'd brought back pizza. It was her idea to have ice cream while watching a movie, and Jack's eyes practically bugged out of his head when Emily showed him how to add whipped cream until it practically made a fluffy mountain adorned with sprinkles. She'd ignored the tiny ache in her chest when she caught Aaron's eyes from over the sticky mess in the kitchen, instead following Jack at his insistence to the living room to pick the movie. They'd only met once before that, a few days after he'd initially suggested it, and she'd won him over through a few games of checkers she let him win.

"Hi, Emiwy," he says, the mispronunciation of her name tearing at her heartstrings. Even though Haley is standing between the two of them, holding her son's hand, Jack still smiles at her, his face lightening up a bit when she smiles back as brightly as she can. "Emiwy, can you play checkers with me again soon?"

Emily stiffens, because she's certain both JJ and Dave overheard Jack's innocent but telling question, and she definitely doesn't miss the way Haley's face darkens like a stormcloud. Yet she can't help but crouch down to his level, giving him a reassuring smile. "Sure, Jack. That sounds like fun." What she doesn't forget is this may be the last time she ever sees Aaron's son.

"Where is Aaron?" Haley asks, her tone clipped and cool.

Emily stares at her shoes. "He's right in here."

"Jack, wait with JJ for a few minutes," Haley says calmly, even as she swallows hard, and Emily is glad it's not just the two of them in the hallway together. "Mommy needs to talk to Daddy first."

"Okay, Mommy." The little boy nods, taking JJ's hand reluctantly as Emily pushes the door open. Haley audibly gasps when she sees Aaron, who opens his eyes with a grimace when he sees both his ex-wife and Emily standing within inches of one another.

"What's going on, Aaron?" She asks, her confusion turning to fear as she takes in the sight of Aaron laying in bed, the bandages still in place.

"I'm glad you're safe," he finally croaks. Then he turns to Emily. "Did SWAT clear the house?"

"Everything is done," Emily says quietly. "It's secure. No sign of anything disturbed."

"Could we have a moment alone, please?" Haley interrupts, her eyes locked on Emily, a mix of emotions ranging from anger and worry to embarrassment and regret. She's doing her best to appear collected and brave, but Emily recognizes the look on her face - the fear that's etched so firmly it becomes part of you, owning you. The knowledge that your life is in imminent danger. She knows it well, actually.

"Of course." She slips out of the room discreetly and closes the door behind her, desperately in need of some space. There isn't enough air for all of them in that room, and she doesn't dare turn around to look back. In fact, she's so intensely focused on getting away from that damn room she practically runs right into JJ, in an attempt to find the closest exit. Emily can't get away from her fast enough.

JJ seems to recognize her distress immediately. With an overwhelming amount of compassion Emily isn't sure she deserves, she asks, "Why don't we get some air? You can stretch your legs a little bit … you've been sitting for awhile, haven't you?"

Emily can only nod, following blindly as JJ leads the way to a small balcony off one of the hospital wings. The crisp afternoon breeze does some good for them both, and Emily focuses on taking some deep, steady breaths as JJ sits beside her, patient and waiting.

"You good?"

"I think so. I just … needed to get out of there." Emily rests her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands. "That was - I … I can't believe this is happening."

"Emily," JJ says gently, her voice full of curiosity. "Is … are you … is there something going on we should know about?" It's clear she already suspects something, and Emily suddenly wishes they would have come clean awhile ago. Despite telling Aaron months before she was tired of keeping secrets, the truth never actually came out. They hadn't quite found the time to tell the rest of the team in the midst of everything. Maybe they should have, after all.

Emily just stares at her knees. "You could say that." When she looks up, she finds JJ's eyes on her, the opposite of judgmental, but instead full of understanding and warmth. "It's … complicated. Me and Aaron. Really complicated."

The corners of JJ's lips turn up at the mention of his first name. "What good story isn't complicated?" It's how she smiles, reaching for Emily's hand, that assures her it might just all be okay. As okay as it can be, with Aaron lucky to be alive, convalescing from nine stab wounds and a serial killer targeting his ex wife and child. "I know we don't have a lot of time, but … how long has this been going on?"

"Almost ten years," Emily mutters, and nearly laughs when JJ's jaw nearly hits the ground. Has it been that long?

"What are you - ten years? But Aaron was -"

"Let me rephrase," she says slowly, wondering how she's going to piece this together cohesively. "I've known Aaron for ten years. We met when he worked security for my mother. When I was in school. We uh … it went on for awhile. For almost a year while I was at Yale."

JJ's eyes narrow, then widen, her hand flying to her mouth. "A year? You and Hotch? How old were you?"

"Yeah. Well, more than that … if …" Emily trails off, unable to formulate words. "He started dating Haley the summer after we got together." She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, glancing in the direction of the doors. "I was … really young. Young and stupid. Clearly things didn't quite work out."

"And what about now?" JJ isn't exactly prying, but Emily knows she's expecting the truth, and it's what she's owed at this point.

"We've been … figuring things out?" She offers noncommittally. "It was complicated then and it's complicated now." Emily shrugs, searching for the right words she's never been able to find since the day she met him.

Luckily, JJ doesn't seem to need more of an explanation. "I've … often wondered about the two of you. Over the years. Some things just didn't add up."

"Like what?"

"When you started at the BAU, he changed. Hotch has always kept things pretty close to the vest, but something was different with him from the minute you walked in. I can't explain it. Little things through the last few years. How he looks at you when he thinks no one is looking. How he immediately seemed to trust your opinion almost from the beginning." JJ pats her knee with a thoughtful smile. "I've had my suspicions for awhile now, Em."

"What about everyone else?" Emily tries to conceal a groan.

"Spence is clueless," she says with a laugh, "But I'm sure that doesn't surprise you. Morgan hasn't ever said anything about it, but if Garcia knew, he would too, and vice versa. Dave … definitely knows something."

"Dave's always known," Emily quips, lifting her face to the sun for a few brief moments. "We've never actually discussed it but … he's not in the dark. He and Aaron are close."

"Sounds about right. Listen, I know why you felt like you couldn't say anything. I felt the same way when Will and I got together." She twists the ring on her finger as if to prove a point. "It felt so … it never felt like the right time. So, I understand that part well." She looks as if she wants to say more but doesn't, just reaches for Emily's hand. "He's going to get through this, Emily. We'll get him through it."

"This shouldn't be happening, JJ. They shouldn't have to … this isn't fair."

"Life is never fair, Em."

Isn't that the fucking truth?

She's waiting outside his room with Dave when the US Marshals show up, ready to escort Haley and Jack into the waiting, nondescript car outside the hospital entrance. Emily can barely watch as Jack turns back to wave to his dad once more before disappearing down the hallway. The bereft look on Aaron's face, even through the painkillers, is something she never wants to see again.

There are no words to comfort him in the long moments that follow, nothing to offer even a moment of reprieve from the plaguing fears that will now become his daily reality. Emily sits with him for as long as she can, on the cold plastic chair beside his bed. Aaron stares straight ahead, stock still, and it's silent except for the metronomic beat of the monitors attached to his body for company. Eventually he falls asleep, and she's grateful for the heavy painkillers that bring him some kind of relief. It's also her cue to leave, because it's Dave's turn to sit with him. She's been there for hours, the lack of sleep is starting to take its toll, and besides, if Dave sees how terrible she looks, he'll have some choice words for her. If she's lucky, she can slip out unseen, and will avoid any conversations she's not in the mood to have.

Except, she's not that lucky. Dave stealthily catches her on her way out of the hospital. His hand on her elbow is a reminder that she's not the bad guy here, even though she feels like one. "Don't you dare blame yourself for this," he chides, his eyes warm as he sips from a paper cup full of coffee. "Not even for a second. You couldn't have done anything differently. Foyet would have found him one way or another. This is personal for him. It has nothing to do with you."

"He wasn't supposed to be alone." Emily shakes her head ruefully. "Had I been there … maybe he would have just gone after me and not him. Or if he hadn't gone home...who knows what would have happened. He was supposed to come to my place … after Canada."

Canada. It feels like a lifetime ago by now, when in reality it's only been a handful of hours.

"No, Emily. You know better than that. He would have killed you, left Aaron to watch, and then would have waited to go after Haley and Jack. That's his M.O. He doesn't stop. He's not going to. Not until he's dead."

"We have to find him, Dave." Emily grits her teeth, unable to fully meet his gaze after hearing his words. "This is -" She shifts her gaze to Aaron's room, where he's still sleeping, his face contorted in pain. "He can't live like this forever."

"We will, Em," he says confidently, crossing his arms over his chest. "We will."

She almost believes him.

She and Dave take shifts visiting Aaron in the hospital in the days afterward. She sneaks in food, which he merely picks at, if he even touches it at all. Some days they talk, but most days they don't. Instead, it's a heavy silence, full of things they should say but can't, the rebuild of whatever they were working towards in a holding pattern for the time being. It feels wrong to think about, let alone bring up.

"I'm coming back as soon as I'm medically cleared," he says one afternoon when only the wind beating the windows is louder than the thunder that rattles them. He must be feeling at least slightly better, because he's been irritable since she showed up a few hours ago. At first she was concerned, and now, she's just annoyed. I"m not taking any extra time off."

"You really think that's a good idea?" She looks up briefly from the magazine she isn't reading. It's been on the same page for the last fifteen minutes. "You don't want to take another week?"

"It doesn't matter if it is or isn't. It's what has to be done." He keeps his tone curt, pushing himself up against the pillows, swearing under his breath as it aggravates one of the healing wounds on his chest. "You of all people should know this. I can't just sit around and wait for Foyet to decide to come back."

"Are you this pleasant when Dave visits? Or do you save the attitude just for me?" She snaps right back, eyes narrowing.

"No one's forcing you to stay." Aaron reaches for the IV pump that controls his pain medication and adds another dose.

"Maybe you're right," Emily says, turning away from him. As much as she wants to push back, seeing him like this hasn't gotten any easier. His body might be healing, but each day he retreats into himself a little bit more, a quiet rage building underneath his carefully wound surface. So she gathers her jacket, keeping her back to him.

"Wait," he says, sounding exhausted as he makes sense of what's just happened. "I'm sorry, Emily." He sags in defeat, what little strength he had when she arrived earlier all but gone when she finally turns around again.

"We'll get him, Aaron. Or I will. Somehow." She swallows bravely, standing up a little straighter in defiance as she practically watches the hope vanish from his face too.

He laughs bitterly, full of anger. Not at her, per say, but the entire situation at hand. "Foyet hid for ten years just to watch Shaughnessy's life fall apart. We're not going to catch him unless he wants us to." He's not going to stop until I'm dead. Or they are. Probably both."

She stares at him, shaking her head. "We'll find a way."

"How do you know?"

She doesn't, but she has the upper hand and she can't let him down. "We always do."

...

Strauss makes him take a month off, a non-negotiable four weeks. Emily is glad she's not there to witness the conversation between the two of them, because she knows Aaron won't be happy with the demand. Dave only tells her about it afterward, in some valiant attempt to prove he isn't falling apart at the seams, but in reality, it has the opposite effect. They all know just how badly he's struggling, yet there's not much they can do to fix any of it.

The healing process is a slow one, and coming home from the hospital is a humbling experience. At first, any movement is excruciating; he relies on the painkillers to get through a day. They make him nauseous and incredibly itchy. He sleeps poorly if at all, his dreams are more like nightmares, insidious and unrelenting.

Sometimes, he's being stabbed again, the knife piercing his skin over and over. Other times it's Jack's face he sees, just out of reach only to be torn away with terrified screams. Sometimes, Haley's voice haunts him - her happiness in the beginning of their doomed marriage a tormenting reminder of how badly he let her down. Other nights it's a loop of the many disagreements from over the years. It brings on a shroud of guilt, because he's the reason they're in this mess they never even saw coming.

He calls Emily one night when the pain is particularly bad, when his third attempt to sleep leaves him drenched in a cold sweat, the blankets on the floor and the sheets pulled away from the mattress. It's a split second decision, a moment of weakness, but he's dialing her number before he can talk himself out of it.

"You sound like hell," Emily says when she picks up on the second ring, her voice thick with fatigue. "Have you slept at all?"

"I feel like it, too." Aaron grapples with the mess on his bedside table in search of the prescription bottles, cursing under his breath when his lack of coordination sends most of the things to the floor. "And not much."

"I'm on my way," she says, suppressing a yawn. It's like history is repeating itself as she thinks back to the night he did the same for her, without question, many years ago. She finds a sweatshirt and looks at the clock - how many nights will this go on - and flips the deadbolt on the door.

"You can't come over here, you know that." He makes a little noise, one she recognizes as him in pain. "If Foyet is tracking me somehow or following me and he finds out about you, or sees you … you know he'd come after you too."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take." Her keys are already in hand, her jacket already on. It's a thought she's had a few times since he's come home, one she all but ignored. It wouldn't be the first time she's taken a risk that could potentially end her life.

"No," he says firmly, the most coherent he's sounded since she answered the phone. "I won't put you in that position."

"Then why did you call in the first place?" Emily mutters, sinking down on the couch in her own apartment, her eyes on the door.

"I miss you." It's the first time he's acknowledged anything between them since he'd been stabbed. It's as if not admitting it will keep her safer in his mind. "I wanted to hear your voice."

His honesty is sobering, enough so that now she's wide awake. "I know." What she doesn't want to tell him is that she misses him, too. "None of this is right, you know. Or fair."

"I know," he grunts. "Tell that to Haley and Jack. I can't." There's no way to hide the bitterness in his voice, or the fear.

"I can't tell them either, Aaron," she says softly. "You know that." Her heart aches for him, for the pain he's in, with no way to ease any of it. Hell, they don't even know where Haley and Jack are at this point. But that's for their protection, another necessary evil of this arrangement.

"I think you need to get some sleep," she tells him gently after a few moments. "Call me in the morning." It's only a few hours away now. It's pointless for her at this point, but hopefully he's able to have some relief for a little while.

"Goodnight, Emily," he says, sounding lost. A few second later, the phone goes dead in her ear.

He's back exactly thirty days after the stabbing, as she expected, a milestone they should never have to signify. But when she picks him up that morning, at her own insistence, she isn't quite sure what she'll find in his apartment that has since been cleaned and 've given him space, she's stopped her visits at his request, limiting their interactions to daily phone calls, in the morning and before she goes to bed. She tells him about the cases they have - it's a slow month so none of them are even really worth discussing. It's nothing they haven't seen before; they're just going through the motions. But he listens, asks about how they're all managing and quietly reassures her that they're doing fine in his absence. Time passes like it always does, until one day he's back, like he never left at all.

Except things are drastically different.

He's a mess in Louisville. Rash, a shell of himself, and they all watch in horror as he unravels even further in a shocking, callous display of disregard. In fact, she's so simultaneously angry with him, and concerned for him, that afterward she hardly speaks to him on the flight back to Quantico. The tension is palpable, enough to be felt by the rest of the team. Luckily Morgan is the one who takes the seat beside Aaron, his presence nothing more than a comfort for the few hours in the air. Emily has a feeling he's secretly grateful for the quiet support.

He says nothing as she follows him up the stairs to his door, just a little slower than normal and he fumbles with the keys. "You didn't have to walk me up here, you know." It's one of the only things he's said since they got into the car almost an hour ago.

"I know." She nonchalantly takes a quick loop around his apartment, searching for anything out of place or another warning sign that Foyet may be back once again. Everything is as it should be. But as he bolts the door, his back pressed against the door as he pulls in a ragged breath, she knows she made the right choice.

"Stop profiling me, Emily," he says gruffly, throwing his bag down and taking a few steps in her direction.

She wasn't even aware that she was staring at him.

But before she can breathe, she's being held against the door, his body possessively pushed into hers. "What are you doing?" Emily hisses in his ear, his strength taking her by surprise as he lifts her up like he's done many times before. "You said we can't do this."

"I'll take my chances." He buries his face in her neck, gets his hands under her shirt, groaning. "Just this once."

It's quick, rough, and slightly uncoordinated, with her legs wrapped around his waist as he drives into her relentlessly, her back hitting the door. But he's careful to make sure she goes first, and when she does, her scream is silenced by his mouth on hers, a reminder that he's right there with her when he spasms and spills into her with a groan. Afterward, he lowers her down and mutters something about the fact she shouldn't stay, just in case. But it's just a formality. They both know she isn't going anywhere.

At least for a little while.

Emily slips out from his bed a few hours later, after his sleeping pill has taken effect. He's somewhere in the midst of a dreamless rest, so she wanders into the living room, getting dressed again along the way. There isn't much to clean but she tidies up anyway, folding a few blankets and putting their dinner plates from earlier in the dishwasher.

And when she goes to leave, double checking the locked door behind her, Emily pulls her jacket up a little higher to conceal her face in the shadowy hallway of his building, her heart pounding just a little bit faster until she's locked in the safety of her own apartment.

...

Things get a little better after that, but of course, he's never fully there, no matter how hard he tries to suppress the relentless fear of the unknown by throwing himself into work. There's the constant, nagging pain of Jack's absence, the despair for what their lives have turned into, and his remaining hours are consumed with the thought of locating Foyet. The team picks up his slack, what remarkably little there is, because he's Aaron and even at his worst, his skill level is unmatched. But they tread just a little lighter while still keeping things as status quo as possible.

Aaron and Emily find each other in Long Island and New Mexico, Oklahoma City and even in Los Angeles, a familiar return to what they've never been able to deny for too long. It's the best they can do right now, but it works, because it's the only option they have, a reminder that things have changed, this time not for the better..

"You do know I'm healed, right?" he whispers into her hair, his arms tightening around her as she carefully shifts off of him one night in Los Angeles, her limbs sore and her face flushed. "I'm fine."

"I don't seem to recall you being medically cleared for this kind of activity," Emily jokes, snuggling just a little closer into his side as her fingers make contact with something bumpy and rough on his skin. They haven't talked about the nine scars that adorn his chest. They might be healed, but she's still not quite used to seeing them. His hand comes to cover hers, but he doesn't move her fingers away for once.

"We all have some, you know," Emily whispers, pressing down ever so slightly to feel it properly. "Scars, I mean."

"I know." And he kisses her, his mind flashing back to a time where he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to again.

She knows there's a heaviness to him there wasn't before. When he falls asleep, she lays in the dark in the middle of Los Angeles and wonders if they'll ever have the chance they truly deserve.

Aaron doesn't say much on the way to Red Onion Supermax Prison a few weeks later, and Emily doesn't quite know what to expect. She's only ever heard about Karl Arnold, The Fox, the notorious serial killer and family annihilator, but what she does know is enough to make her skin crawl. But he's their best chance at the moment, or else they wouldn't have made the hours long trip from Quantico in the first place.

"The first thing he's going to want to know is why I'm not wearing my wedding ring," Aaron says stiffly, crisp and professional. "Your presence will throw him off guard, but he'll try to pull you into his fantasy." He's distant, almost cold, as they walk, their strides even, down the long line of cells, but the firm line of his mouth tells her he's bothered by the relentless shouting from the other inmates.

Aaron doesn't miss the tremor in her voice when she recognizes Garret Pain. For a fleeting second, he contemplates scrapping the entire arrangement altogether, because what he's asking her to do as her superior is a stretch, and on a personal level, it's nothing less than revolting. But they can't, because they're working with little as it is, and based on how things are going at home, their leads are slim to none. This is their only option.

"Agent Hotchner." There's a singsong cheerfulness in Karl's voice, once the door secures behind them. Clearly this wasn't what he anticipated; their little plan worked. "They didn't say you were bringing a -" he practically licks his lips when he sees Emily, an evil smile curling his lips. "They just said two agents."

"This is -"

"Emily … Prentiss. I know all about you." If he is thrown off guard he recovers quickly, the way he sizes her up, calculating, already pulling her into the fantasy Aaron undoubtedly predicted.

It's almost easy to tap back into the world she swore she'd leave behind. And while she isn't Lauren Reynolds anymore, she isn't exactly Emily Prentiss either for the few hours she sits in the cold cell with Aaron a few feet away. She's almost too good at this - this is what she was trained to do, and it takes her back to her days in Europe as she sifts through Karl's mind, coyly picking through the pieces. His eyes are a shocking shade of blue, almost as blue as Ian's, just less refined and a lot less charming. But he plays right into her game, one she knows too well, and she draws out what she needs, cajoling him easily. It leaves a taste in her mouth she can't get rid of, the sensation of feeling violated even with the two feet of space between them.

Aaron is intensely focused, listening to her every word, yet he hardly even looks at her. The slightest glance in her direction might raise Karl's suspicions about the two of them. He keeps his gaze fixed ahead of him as they work through the profiles. Karl has other ideas when the conversation takes a different turn once things start to unfold.

"Tell me, Emily, does he make you scream each time he fucks you?" He sneers, his eyes shining as he stares between them both. "I'm curious." How he knows, they have no idea, but there's a reason why he got away with what he did for so long.

"That's enough, Karl," Aaron snaps, angling his body a bit closer to Emily's out of instinct. "We're here to talk about the families. Not your sick fantasies." From her place beside him, Emily remains completely still, her face stone. She's good, he thinks. Where did she learn to be this good?

"Are you what tore his marriage apart? I can see you're not wearing your ring." He smirks to Aaron, crossing his arms over his chest. "A beautiful woman like her, it must be distracting, Agent Hotchner." He leers at Emily again, sounding almost dreamy. "The things I would do to you. Want to hear about them?"

Beside her, Aaron is the one who flinches, his hand tightening into a fist. But Emily is prepared, brushing off his advance with ease. "Tell us why, Karl," she says again, continuing her profiling of him like she's done since they sat down.

"I've already told you why."

"You told me how, not why." Emily is all in at this point, knowing exactly what she has to do, the resignation building in her chest.

A little while later, sits hunched in a chair, Aaron standing before her. "You helped the case, you know." And at what expense?

"Getting intimate with a killer," she says, staring at her feet. "Is so different." Of course it is. It's not the first time you've done it, either, she reminds herself. "I made it personal." Again, not for the first time.

"It's what we do," he tells her quietly, not wanting to push her any further. "It helped the case. You did what you had to." It's not the first time she's heard those words or at least a variation of them, or said them to herself to justify her own actions. Except now, it just feels so incredibly wrong, in a way it never did before. All she wants is to get the fuck out of there.

From the tiny monitor in the room adjacent to his cell, they hear him yet again. Aaron stiffens when Emily flinches at the sound of his voice and he regrets bringing her here at all. "Agent Hotchner, before you go, there's one thing I'd like to share with you." Karl looks amused, as if he's saving the best for last, one final trick up his sleeve.

"Let's just get this over with," Emily groans, rising to her feet.

Karl is still grinning in his cell when they return, staring between them both like an animal ready to pounce, holding up the sheet of paper with the eerie message scrawled across it. Look at what I've done. "It's quite brilliant, you know."

"We're done," Aaron bites. "We'll find whoever sent you that."

"No, Agent Hotchner. I think he's already found you."

It can't be.

"Hotch," Emily says anxiously from over his shoulder as he flips through the pages of the files and then the book, searching for what he already knows he'll find.

"It's great to see you squirm, Agent Hotchner," Karl laughs, enjoying every moment of Aaron's reaction, every second of his mounting fears.

The Red Eye of Providence stares back at them both, sending the blood rushing to her ears when it suddenly all makes perfect sense. "Foyet," she gasps, her body going numb at the sheer anguish that flashes across Aaron's face.

"He knew you'd come." Karl is laughing now, a maniacal sound that will haunt her for a very long time. All she can do is follow Aaron out of the prison quickly, with the mountain of files in her arms. This time, she doesn't even hear the raucous shouting from the other prisoners, just the door slamming behind them. The darkening sky that greets them is an ominous foreshadow of what's to come.

...

"You did good back there with Karl," he says once they're in the car on the way home, another long trip ahead of them. Miles and miles of endless highway with only unspoken words between them. "You're the reason we solved this case, you know. You're the one who profiled the unsub being a woman." It's a weak attempt to ease her discomfort, but it's all he has to give at the moment.

"I hope it was worth it." She mumbles, her head turned towards the window. She feels dirty, used even, as she presses herself into the passenger door, further away from him.

"You heard Morgan on the phone. It's over. Sometimes we just have to be okay with that." He doesn't take her hand because both of his are currently tightened around the wheel, slick with sweat, his throat tight. This is much more than the murdered families now, and they both know it. This is personal, another attack on him, his ex-wife, and son - one that's never going to stop. But she's clearly not over what just happened back in that prison cell. As her superior, he owes her the decency of a reassurance, and as a lover, something else entirely even he can't explain.

"I heard him." Emily mumbles, wishing the last few hours would file into her mind as neatly as Europe had. "At least we can be grateful for that."

"Are you-?" He asks at last, only to be cut off quickly.

"I'm fine." She's concerned about him too, not oblivious of the sweat that's been collecting on his forehead since they got in the car. Karl had played them all along, brought them right into his game. It was never just about the case, it was also to see Aaron break, just because he could make it happen. A true sadist, in every sense of the word. She rests her head against the window, but resists opening it since the rain is starting to fall, pecking the windshield before the sky completely opens. An indication of anything less than her typical composure will only worry him more. She can't do that to him now. "Can't say the same for yourself, can you?"

"No." How could he? He should have known from the beginning it was a trap. Foyet is always ahead of them, just far enough he can almost watch things destroy in his wake. He should have known this would be his play. But he pushes the button that releases the window, cool air rushing in with the rain, as if he can read her mind, and when he does, she takes his hand tentatively in her own.

"We're going to get him, Aaron," Emily says, and while she sounds convincing, she's starting to wonder if the words everyone's been repeating for the last few months are actually in fact true.

True to her word, they get him, but they're too late, and Haley walks right into the trap Foyet laid. It's almost too easy for him to lure her in, paralyzing her with fear and a string of lies. It's a sickening twist of fate, because all she did was follow the rules Aaron had so carefully arranged, and yet in the end, he couldn't protect her from it.

And what's even worse is that Foyet is going to make him - all of them - listen to every last moment. It's one of his final moves, to break him down to nothing, to destroy him.

"Why so quiet?" Foyet rasps tauntingly as they race to the house in the middle of Fairfax, listening in through phones. "You usually lash out when you're frustrated." It's evident the sole act of torturing Aaron so deliberately has been calculated and planned to the last second. "All you had to do was stop looking for me. And you wouldn't be in this mess."

Emily presses her fist to her lips as the cars tick by through the window as they speed down the road. The tactical deployment Morgan sent isn't going to make it in time. None of them will, even as JJ is doing her best to navigate the mounting traffic.

"Haley, show him no weakness, no fear." From his own car, Aaron grips the steering wheel in one hand. He's going to be too late. "We're on our way. All of us."

"I know. Sam told me all about him. Is he, uh -"

"Sam is fine," Aaron says, hoping it gives her a few final moments of peace. She shouldn't have to know the truth about the man who protected her and Jack so diligently, or the agony in which he died.

"Aaron, Aaron, Aaron. Is that why your marriage broke up? Because you're a liar?" Foyet almost sounds gleeful, his tone light and mocking, and Emily can practically see his Aaron's eyes darken with anger.

"Don't listen to him, Haley."

The silence is all but a confirmation - from both of them - in a sense, it's the truth being revealed.

But Haley speaks first, before Aaron can say anything else to make these last few moments anything less than horrific. "I'd like to talk to Emily. For a moment. Please."

Oh God, no. Emily knows what's coming. Whatever Haley wants to say will bring to light everything that's been unsaid for the last several years. An absolution, so to speak. But maybe she owes it to her in these final moments.

"Haley - " Aaron begins, his voice starting to crack, and Emily nearly drops the phone right out of her shaking hands. "You don't have to - we know -"

"Emily?" The terror in Haley's voice is evident even through the phone. "Can you hear me?"

The line is silent, except for the heavy breathing she recognizes as Aaron's, coupled with Foyet's, one right after the other. It should have never come to this, she thinks, the bubble in her chest starting to grow. What he's being put through right now is nothing less than emotional torture, a cruel final plunge of a knife, this one metaphorical. Being privy to this conversation, let alone a part of it, feels so inherently wrong, as if she's partly to blame for this mess.

"I can hear you, Haley." She doesn't dare look at JJ, whose eyes are planted on the road even though she can obviously hear every word of what's happening, just like they all can. "I'm here."

"Emily, I know we, um -uh ...I - can you … do you think you can … look in on him from time to time?" Haley takes a sharp breath that sounds more like a gasp for air, and Emily grips the armrest a little tighter. "Jack, I mean. And make sure he -" She stops, her voice choking, unable to continue. "He really likes you, you know."

"I will." She might vomit right on the spot, and there are wet drops she recognizes as tears falling right onto her pants. "I - Haley - I'm - I'm sorry for -"

"You don't have to explain, Emily. I've always known. I think we all did, I just didn't want to see it for myself until it was too late. Figure things out ... be happy. Make sure Aaron laughs every now and then, like he used to. Remember those days?"

Her eyes burn, her mind a mess of things she can't identify, her body heavy with loathing for Foyet, with grief for Aaron and fear for Haley. "I will." It's the best answer she can come up with.

"Well then, now that we have that settled. Any last words, Aaron?" Foyet says casually, as if he were asking what to bring over for dinner. "Haley and I really need to get going here."

Son of a bitch. "You're stronger than I ever was, Haley." It's true, he thinks, the years playing through his mind. It'd been doomed from the start, but she saw it through to the very end, now paying the ultimate price.

"Aaron, I'm sorry. For … for what happened when I...for what I did -"

"Stop," he chokes, the phone in his grasp so tightly it might snap. "It's not important now. I'll - I'm on my way. Tell Jack I need him working the case," Aaron chokes, and somehow he gets the message across to his son. The gun clicks in the background, and he knows the end is near. "I know you didn't sign on for this, Haley."

"Neither did you. I never wanted things to be this way, you know. For us. For you."

"I'm sorry for everything."

"Promise me you'll figure things out, Aaron," she says, and he knows she's referring to Emily. "Love is the most important thing, you know." Haley's voice is thick now, a sob threatening to spill over. "Figure things out and don't look back."

"Time's up. Looks like you'll be a little too late, Aaron." Foyet rasps. "At least everyone got to say their goodbyes."

Emily closes her eyes, trembling, biting down a little too hard on her knuckle, drawing blood she can hardly taste in her mouth.

The gun is louder than she imagined it would be, only to be followed by silence.

...

She's an outsider in his former home, as if she's overstepped a boundary she has no right to cross in the first place.

It's clear exactly what's happening up the narrow flight of stairs as she ascends them; the only sounds are coming from Aaron, completely incoherent, the fury in his fists and adrenaline pumping through his veins as he pummels Foyet again and again. Dave blocks the doorway, shielding her view as Morgan all but hauls him off of the dead serial killer, covered in blood.

"You don't want to see him like this," he murmurs gently, his own face twisted in heartbreak at the sound of Aaron's cries. "We'll take care of him."

But she doesn't want to be the one to find Haley, either. It feels wrong to see her that way, in such an undignified manner after all that's happened between them over the years. It only feels right to bypass the room just a few feet down the hallway, the one with a wayward navy shoe in her line of sight, blood stained all along the carpet, and keep on walking. Parts of the house are a mess, some completely destroyed, glass shattered, a few holes in the walls, curtains torn down. She surveys the damage and the remains of just what went down in the moments before, choking back the sob that's been brewing for hours.

Emily watches from a distance soon after, as Aaron cradles his son in his arms down the steps, the little boy holding onto his father in fear, a toy dangling from one hand. Besides a few tearful whimpers from Jack every few moments, the house is completely silent, as the heavy aftermath settles in. An aftermath that will never quite dissipate, people who will never be the same.

The Fairfax County Police show up in a cacophony of lights and sirens that alert their presence. Soon the scene is swarmed with people, an endless mess of people with good intentions yet it's completely overwhelming for all of them, almost like an invasion when they're at their most vulnerable. It's Dave who finally persuades Aaron to leave Haley's body, quietly saying it's time, and Emily can see the coroner's truck pulling in the driveway. If Aaron hears him, he certainly doesn't make it known as he sits beside Haley, his head in his hands and clothes stained with blood. JJ is taking care of the press with her usual professionalism despite the fact her face is ghostly grey, Garcia is almost silent on the phone. Morgan is coordinating the police response, directing the Fairfax PD with a grim expression, and Reid barely looks at her as he awkwardly crutches by, moving from room to room. He looks uncomfortable, unable to be of much help in his current state but still unable to be anywhere else but with his team.

It's where they all belong.

Much later that night, Emily goes home alone, and sits on her apartment patio wrapped in a blanket in the cold, a bottle in her hands. She stays until the sun rises in a brilliant spectacle, making a mockery of the day before.

She runs right into Allison at the funeral, and Emily has never been more relieved to see a familiar face. The vast majority of the attendees are Haley's family and friends, and while it isn't abundantly clear just who she is, Emily still feels like she's under scrutinous eyes for the duration of the service.

"Emily, my God, I … I can't believe any of this." Her friend's embrace is so familiar it makes her throat hurt as they hug right in the middle of the cramped, tiny bathroom. "I called you...I wasn't sure if you needed anything."

"I know." She's heard her phone ring, at least three or four times. She just hasn't had the wherewithal to answer. "I'm sorry for not answering. Things have been...hard."

"I … can imagine. How is Aaron?" For once, there isn't a double meaning behind her question. Allison is fully aware of how their relationship has evolved over the last two years. It'd taken multiple occasions and a few tough conversations, but she'd started to come around after the disastrous trip to Colorado almost a year ago. She knows what questions to ask and when to push, but to her credit, has given Emily the space to figure things out. "We sent a card to him and Jack and flowers to the funeral home."

"I know," Emily says again, unsure of what else to say, considering they haven't spent much time together since Haley's death. "He says thank you. Aaron is ... struggling." She wonders just how much of the story Allison knows. To an outsider, it's barely even believable.

"How does this even happen, Emily? How do you even … why do you still do this? This job... it doesn't get to you after awhile?" Allison shakes her head, struggling to make sense of it all. "Don't you ever worry someone will come after you one day?"

Emily shivers, her mind drifting back once again to a villa in the middle of Tuscany, the look on Ian's face as she was hauled into the back of an SUV. "That won't happen, Al." But you never really know.

"How does he move on from here? I know they were divorced and everything, but ...I can't imagine having to do what he has to now."

Emily sighs, wondering the same thing. "Time, I guess." Supposedly it heals everything, but she's never found that to be true. "I really don't know. He's worried about Jack. Rightfully so, of course. It'll be awhile for them both."

Allison nods uneasily, her mouth pressing in a thin line, her hand drifting to her stomach out of habit.

"How are you feeling, by the way?" Emily gestures to her friend's baby bump under her dress. It's still small but undeniable now, having grown since the last time she saw it. Allison beams, her eyes practically sparkling at the switch in topic. "Well, I was feeling like shit for hours every day. You should have seen me in court with morning sickness. It got better though. I'm feeling pretty good."

"I bet it was something else," she muses with a soft laugh, checking her hair in the mirror. It feels wrong to smile now, but the thought makes her lips curl up. "I'm really happy for you and Shane, Al. You're going to be a great mom, you know."

"Thanks," Allison reaches for her hand, squeezing hard. "And I'm here for you, Em. Through all of this … whatever you may need."

She nods gratefully, even if she isn't sure what she needs at all.

They stare at one another in disbelief from across the table when JJ gets the call. They're needed in Nashville, immediately. None of them want to go, but they have no other choice. They feel his absence on the plane, and throughout the duration of the case.

Part of her is secretly relieved he won't ever find out about how she menaced the unsub with a gun in his face, seething with rage. You don't survive that kind of thing without scars, is what she tells Dave and Morgan as they walk away.

Sometimes she feels like her own are on full display.

"You hanging in there?" Dave asks on the way back, slipping into the empty seat across from her. "Pretty sure you scared the shit out of Joe Belzer back in Nashville."

"Good. He deserved it," Emily says quietly, not looking away from the window. "Bastard should rot in hell."

"And he will." Dave folds his arms over his chest, studying her carefully. "Everything else okay?" What he's really asking is if she's heard from Aaron. She knows him well enough by now, as well as he knows her. He's kept an extra close eye on her this trip; clearly he's worried about them both.

"He's okay, Dave." It's not a lie; she's heard from him once. It was a quick phone call but even then she can tell through his voice the guilt he'd had for not being there with them.

"He'll be back." There's an undeniable truth to his words, something they all secretly know. "Strauss offered him full retirement and pension. I think that's a good enough reason for him to want to come back." There's a soft gleam in his eye when he says it. "What do you think?"

"You know something I don't, Dave?" Emily asks, her eyebrows lifting.

He shakes his head. "Not that I know of. I think you know good and well he's coming back."

Dave's words ring true in less than two weeks.

...

Time keeps moving as they all knew it would.

And for what it's worth, the rest of the team's reaction isn't what she expected at all, to their credit. At first, no one really acknowledges what was said on the phone that terrible day. Aaron is still learning how to cope - they all are, and the timing just isn't quite right to add anything else into the mix. But it hangs in the air, awkwardly at times, and only a few weeks later, it comes up when she least expects it.

"So … you and Hotch." Morgan says from behind the wheel in Lockport as he drives them back to the police station from the hospital, a few weeks after Nashville. It's the first time he's directly asked her, but clearly knows more than she thought.

"Your timing is awful, Morgan." Emily stares at the gauze wrapped around her arm as the ache in her body starts to set in. It's inevitable, considering the fact she was t-boned by a truck mere hours before. She's going to be in pain later on. "You do know I have a concussion, right? My head is pounding." Not to mention, Dale Schrader is still missing, it's the middle of the night, and no one is getting any sleep anytime soon.

"I know. But …" he trails off, glancing over at her, as if he regrets bringing it up in the first place. "How are you holding up with all of this?" It's one of the first times someone has asked her that, and she isn't quite sure how to answer. None of this is about her, but at the same time it is, a ridiculously complicated web of history.

"I'm alright. I think we're all coping the best we can with everything."

"You're right about that. But you could have told me, Prentiss." He looks a little dejected, disappointed, maybe even annoyed at himself for not figuring it out sooner.

"And said what? Hey, Morgan. I used to sleep with Hotch years ago when he worked for my mother, but now he's my boss and his marriage fell apart, but we're together again ? Sure. That would have gone over real well."

"Maybe not that bluntly," Morgan says with a slight chuckle, turning off the highway in the direction of the police station. "But you could have said something."

"You say that now," Emily murmurs, sighing heavily. "But it would only have complicated things. It just never felt like the right time."

Derek nods, not necessarily in disagreement. "Prentiss, I don't think you give us enough credit."

"Maybe not," she says quietly, picking at the gauze she'd been specifically told not to touch. "Can we talk about this later? I really … I just want to get back." Her head is still aching, the soreness is only getting worse. "We need to find this guy, Morgan."

"It wouldn't hurt to trust people a little more, you know. I'm your friend. Who you decide to sleep with isn't going to change that, you know. Even if it is our boss."

She snorts inelegantly, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Just hurry the hell up and get us back in one piece, okay?"

...

It's not the first time they have to start over. In the wake of Haley's death, it's one more beginning for them both, somewhere between a series of women being abducted in Atlantic City and a serial killer in Rhode Island. It's also the first time they haven't had to hide behind at least one closed door. It's a change, at times unfamiliar for them both, but it's perhaps the most normal they've ever been able to be after all this time.

"When are you going to tell Jack?" Emily asks from behind the shower curtain one morning in his apartment bathroom as she wraps a towel around her head. Aaron is at the counter, his hair stuck up in multiple directions, his chest bare. His scars have faded a bit more, but she knows where to find them. She'll never not know.

It's also not the first (or fifth) time she's stayed over with Jack in the apartment, but it feels different now. He's becoming accustomed to Emily's almost constant presence - asking her to play or draw, showing her his action figures and toys with an excitement in his eyes. While he's still too young to understand all of it, he's still a six year old child grieving his mother's death. He deserves an explanation as to why his father's apartment is being shared by a third person the vast majority of the time.

"I thought I'd talk to him after breakfast." Aaron dries his hands on a towel, eyeing Emily appreciatively as she steps out of the shower, reaching for the robe on the hook. "Or we could do it together?" He seems to want her opinion, so she gives it without hesitation.

"It should be the two of you." She ties the robe in a knot. "I want him to hear it from you first."

"He loves you, Emily. You know that, right?" Aaron snakes his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder as he stares at their reflections in the foggy mirror.

"I know he does. But this is a conversation for the two of you to have together." She turns her head to the side to kiss him, feeling the most at peace she has in a very long time. Maybe after all this time, this is how it's supposed to be.

"Where are you going, Emiwy?" Jack asks a little while later when she stands to go, putting her plate in the dishwasher. His hands sticky with syrup from his waffles - he's already had two - and he looks almost sad when he realizes she's about to leave, her jacket on and bag over her arm.

"I have to get going," she says, leaning down to give him a quick hug and a reassuring smile. "I have some things to do at my house today, Jack. But I think your dad has a really fun day planned for you. You'll have to tell me about it next time I see you. Okay?"

"Okay." He seems to accept that answer, and waves vigorously in her direction, sending his fork to the ground as Emily meets Aaron's eyes with a brief, but knowing smile. As she slips out the front door, there's the sound of his voice lingering in the background, gentle and calm.

"Jack, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"What is it, Daddy?"

She smiles the rest of the way down to her car, and the whole way home, too.

...

Aaron knows the second she pulls the little girl into her arms instinctively, shielding her eyes and ears from the inevitable, where he'll find her later that night. It's the way she fiercely protects Jody in the moments before and after the gun fires, the pain he sees in her eyes when she's taken into a foster home for the night, that tells him just how much the past still comes back to haunt her sometimes.

At the hotel in New Mexico, his guess is confirmed. She's still wearing the clothes from earlier that day, two empty glasses in front of her, along with an ashtray littered with a few cigarette butts. The remnants of liquid in the glass tell him she's drinking scotch. She'd barely touched her food at dinner, and said less than three words to him all night. And while part of him wants to give her the space she so desperately needs, the fact that she continues to ignore him tells him he's right where he needs to be.

"You should be sleeping," she says when she can't ignore him any longer. Her eyes never leave the glass in front of her. Emily doesn't dare look at him. It's obvious why he's here. He'd seen the look in her eyes. There's no way he could have missed it.

"You should take your own advice," he retorts, reaching for her hand only to have her pull it away.

"Everyone else is asleep, I take it?"

"For a while now, I think." Aaron takes the cigarette from her hand, stubbing it out in the ashtray. She tries to glare at him, but fails, her lip trembling ever so slightly.

"I had a feeling you'd find me." She doesn't bother to fix the piece of hair that's fallen, shielding her face from his. "You know me too well by now."

"Let's get you upstairs," he says softly, taking a step closer, as if she'll slip right off the barstool. "We can go to your room. You should lay down."

"I'm not drunk, Aaron," Emily snaps when his hand goes to the small of her back. And maybe she isn't, but she's certainly not in a good frame of mind, either.

"I never said you were," He says, overwhelmingly patient, steadying her when her legs buckle as she stands.

Emily says nothing the entire way up to the room, his hand never leaving her back as they walk. Once inside, she ducks away from him and pours herself a glass of red wine from the bottle that's sitting on the table. He's not entirely sure where it came from; he's not sure he even wants to know, but it's already been opened. She holds it to her lips, hardly taking a sip. Instead, she leans against the wall, her head tipping back, closing her eyes.

"Emily." Aaron's voice is soft, an offering of comfort but also a quiet plea. "Please talk to me."

She stares into the glass, then at him briefly. "He'd be about her age right now, you know. Jody, I mean." Her fingers tighten on the glass, the dark red liquid sloshing around. She makes no move to drink it. In fact, she looks almost repulsed by it.

He. The conversation from so long ago, in the darkened DC bar, replays in his mind like an old broken record. It's a night he's tried for years to forget. The night he saw her break into pieces, pieces that never completely fit together the same again.

"I think I told you once before … I always thought he was a he," she adds with a sad smile when she sees his morose expression. "A mini you, but hopefully with my sense of humor." She makes a noise that sounds like an attempt at a laugh. "I guess we'll never know." She paces, one step forward then two steps back. "Maybe it's better that way."

His stomach clenches. "We've never talked about this, you know." He keeps his distance, giving her space. "At least not like we should have."

"What's there to talk about? It's been years, Aaron. It's not like we can change anything now. It's water under the bridge at this point."

"Yet it still haunts you, doesn't it?" His tone isn't unkind, but it's honest and unflinching, an accurate assessment of what she keeps so hidden and buried.

"Some days." Her answer is brief, but the pain is there. "A lot more lately." It's a bitter reminder that despite all they've worked for, they may never be able to have it all in the end.

He nods, raking a hand over his face. "Emily," he says, his own voice already raw. "When did this … when?"

She closes her eyes briefly then opens them, meeting his insistent stare. "The day after you told me you were seeing Haley." She's always wanted to spare him that one small detail, but it feels wrong to lie to him about it.

He has to know now, his ears ringing as he tries to fathom just what she went through. "What happened?"

She shakes her head, unwilling to go back to that day. It's one of several she remembers in perfect detail, every last miserable second. "No, Aaron. It's not … you shouldn't have to hear any of that. Be glad you weren't there."

"Please tell me."

"I can't." She fumbles with the wine glass in her hands, and it crashes to the floor and shatters into pieces. The red wine bleeds over the shards and all she can do is stare, for the imagery behind it is haunting.

A moment of silence passes between them until she draws in a ragged breath. "It was awful. I thought I was going to bleed until I had nothing left." She sinks down to the ground, her back against the wall, and all he can do is come and sit beside her, gradually closing the gap between them. "It felt like my own body betrayed me. I sat there in my apartment and wondered if it would ever stop."

"You were alone?" He chokes on the words, the image of her by herself, bleeding onto a cold floor, too much to bear.

"Allison came." She pulls her knees to her chest. "She stayed with me at the hospital. Through all of it."

Aaron does his best to hide the grimace on his own face. The clandestine meeting he'd had with Allison in that coffee shop, the desperate phone call before that, makes perfect sense now. If only he'd read between the lines and pushed a little more, maybe it would have been slightly less unbearable for her. But things were so different then. "Emily," he begins, reaching for her limp hand.

"There's more," she adds, sounding completely detached and incomprehensibly empty. "The chances of me... being able to … get pregnant again, successfully, are slim to none." She seems to wither into herself even more, her legs curling tighter into her chest. "Not impossible, but, it doesn't seem very likely." She stares at the shattered glass on the floor. "So … if you … ever had the thought of … you might want to walk away now." A single tear falls from her eye, then another. Both are quickly brushed away before she turns to look at him again.

"I wouldn't do that, Emily." Aaron squeezes her hand, knowing there's little he can say or do to comfort her at this point. "What may or may not be able to happen doesn't change anything."

"They said something about options," Emily attempts to sound brave, studying his face carefully. "If I ever wanted to go that route. It's not a guarantee, but … it's something."

"Then we'll talk about those options, when the time comes." He pulls her into his arms without hesitation, rocking her back and forth with a soothing kiss on the temple. "If that's what you want." They've never even remotely discussed any of this, but his firm assurance seals a few of the cracks in her heart.

"I don't know if I even want to try." She stares at her knees. "I can't go through that again, Aaron."

"I know," he kisses her again, lingering a little longer this time. "But I'll be with you, whatever may come."

Emily relaxes into him for the first time all night, resting her head on his shoulder. "Even if -"

"I love you," he says simply. "And I always have. So yes, even if things turns out the way I know you're thinking, because you can't help yourself, then that's enough for me." He offers her a hand, pulling them both to their feet with ease. "You will always be enough for me, Emily."

Blushing fiercely, Emily wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her body into his. "I love you too, Aaron. I'm sorry for never telling you the truth. I should have -"

Aaron shushes her, cups his hands around her chin when he kisses her again. "I'm sorry I wasn't there that night. I should have been. God, Emily, I'm so sorry." He presses his forehead against hers, and for the first time all night, she sees a few tears glisten in his own eyes.

Later on, after a hot shower that makes her feel human again, he lays her down, his body spreading out over hers. It's reverent, almost protective, and she sighs with pleasure when his head dips down between her legs, bringing each over his shoulders. He takes his time, a slow build that keeps her on edge for a while, pushing her just close enough only to pull back, marveling at the way she bows under his touch. He knows what she can handle, and enjoys watching her body respond to him. Only when she cries out his name for the third time, practically begging at this point, does he give in with one well-timed press of his tongue and the insistent push of his fingers.

Aaron kisses her until she comes back down, a gentle hand on one hip and the other wrapped around her back, holding her close enough to him to feel her beating heart against his. Emily gets the upper hand, sliding a leg around his hips and straddles his waist. Her body rises up over his as she sinks down slowly, until she can't go any further, and the little whimper from the back of her throat tells him this, too. His hands hold her hips, carefully, rocking her back and forth as she adjusts, her own hands coming to brace against his chest.

It's a slow pace she sets, intense but not overly so, her body rocking above his. He encourages her, telling her she's beautiful, and lets her take what she needs in those given moments. Her hair falls over her shoulders as her head tips back, and when he increases the pace, it takes hardly any time at all until she breaks apart again, keening his name in his ear. It takes him over the edge shortly after, and he pulls her down onto him, wrapping his arms around her to feel her heart against his once more.

"I could do this every day." Aaron kisses her, tucking the blankets around them both, after he's gotten her water from the bathroom and an extra pillow from the closet. "I'll never tire of you, you know."

"Me too," she breathes against him, her eyelids already starting to flutter closed when she's safely wrapped in his embrace. "If I have to be stuck with anyone, I'm glad it's with you."

He falls asleep, with three words on his lips, a smile on his face and Emily in his arms.

What they don't know then is it won't be like this forever, or even that much longer at all.

...